The Real Crisis

The real crisis here is the conflict of plans for next year. Meaning: In The Fall. As in: I was already cruising out across the country at will, free to come and go for any length of time, under the assumption that my daughter would be safely esconced at college. In NYC or Philadelphia. Now, with this rude awakening that, gosh, maybe colleges actually have standards regarding your high school GPA, there is no NYC this fall. And the Phila option is similarly questionable. And where I once saw freedom, breathing room, clear space for me AND my husband........ now there is the threat of a whole year like last night - dark, harsh, poisonous moods replete with knee-jerk lying that's not even clever, just blatantly stupid. (ummm.... let's stop those midnight to 2am crank calls that she swears aren't happening by forwarding the house line into my cell phone and leaving the greeting at "Please Wait while your call is being transferred to.... the Police Dept" - YOU NEVER THINK you will be doing this when they're 18!!!!) It's time for US to move on and for HER to move on. What happens when she meets the world that makes bigger rules than I do, and she can't project her excuses on ME??? I long for the day when I can take that bulls-eye off.